Doing It Over, or If I Were 18 Again
by Livi2Jack
Summary: Mini Jack ponders the life ahead of him three years after Fragile Balance. Vignette of a day in the life.


Doing It Over- A Jack CloneFic  
by Livi2Jack

Summary: Jack's clone ponders how to do it all over.

Pairings: None

Characters: Jack's clone

Rating: T-teen.  
Category: Point Of View  
Season: SG-1 Season Nine  
Related SG-1 Episode(s): 703 Fragile Balance- aired June 2003

Author Notes: Spoiler through Season 9. Remember, according to O'Neill's ID in Fragile Balance his birthday is Oct, 1952. So if he was 15 yrs old then in three years, he's got a 53 yr old mind. I did the math.

Feedback requested.

"If I were 18 again, what would I do?" Jonathan O'Neill pondered that question. In fact, he was 18 again. He was 53 year old man inside an 18 year old body. Three years ago, the Asgaard cloned him. Then, the Air Force set him up. He could do it over. Hey this was a do over. Don't like how that game went? Do it over. The good news was he was finally legal. That opened some possibilities. Doing it over? Quite a set of choices knowing what he knew. What would he do differently? So many places to start.

Well, I could make a list, he thought. Let's see. I could try the college scene. Pledge a fraternity, date sorority girls, get drunk, throw up, eat cold pizza, oh yeah, he had choices. What would I do with the time? One thing was for sure; I could crank up my huge honking stereo up to high and not mind it. Just _**FEEL**_ the music. Funny how as one got older, the music tended to get softer. I could stay up all night and keep going the next day like it was nothing. I could skin my knee and heal like lightening. Oh, yeah the knees. Gonna watch out for those this time around. This was the short list from hell.

Jack opened a beer. At least in Colorado, beer was legal at 18 if you could drink the piss made under 3.2 alcohol. He flipped a bottle cap to see how far it would fly. Nice. He made a basket. What was I doing the last time I was 18? Hmm, right, Nam. Definitely not going to do that again. Jeez that blew. But I did join the Air Force. Would I do that again? I could probably get my rank back at colonel. The pay would be good, but the hours sucked. An 18 yr old colonel, hmm, contemplating that should consume a whole 5 minutes. Let's see, I could bust the chops of every old fart of a non-com with impunity. Sport of kings, buddy. I would end up in Iraq again. Sheeeet. Never gonna happen. Jack took a long pull on the beer. He belched. Yep, that was a good strong belch. Not one of those gentlemen pops, but a ripper. And the stomach didn't give the indigestion any more after a night of salsa and chips washed down with beer. He swigged again. He burped again. This was going nowhere fast.

Well I could definitely chase skirt. Knowing what I know now, oh god, don't go there. In this 18 yr old body, it doesn't take much to get going. And then the not having is that much worse. Ah, shit, I shouldn't have gone there in my mind. Think of the ugliest Jaffa babe and pass on it. He found the mental image. Ugh.

Jack got up for another beer. Actually, I am hungry. Jack looked in the fridge in the apartment the Air Force provided. Nope, no cake. That was one of the good things about being 18 again. You could eat all the sugar you wanted and never notice it. Yep, regular soda, not diet, ah there was a pleasure. I'm thinking big honking pieces of cake with lots of frosting and a side of fries, with cheese and chili slathered all over it. The calories don't matter at 18. At 18 a young man is always hungry. Jack got his keys to his motorcycle and headed out the door. This was gonna be good. Oh yeah.

At the nearest place that would have cake, Jack swung into the parking lot. Jonathan, he kept reminding himself, not Jack. But he was Jack and that was all there was to it. At least hot girls were not calling him sir and giving him doe eyes when he couldn't touch. Don't think about that either. It will start that other problem all over again. Ack, don't do it. Aw crap not again. He had to wait at his motorcycle; helmet dangling for a few minutes looking like he was in contemplation. At 6 feet 2 inches, his lanky frame and bushy brown hair looked good. But for some reason, he was not the chick magnet he thought he would be. Must be what's in my eyes, Jack thought. Scares them off. Now in a colonel's uniform at 18, I would be groovy. They don't say 'groovy' anymore. Jack pictured himself in dress blues with a blonde babe on his arm at the Officers Club, looking at the old guys green with envy. Sweet. Okay, time for that cake.

The bakery was loaded with cake. Oh what the hell, buy a really big one. I can finish it and still want those fries. Jack chose the biggest, fanciest, and most fluffy icing covered cake with all the decorations. Uh oh. I need milk for this mother. Jack paid for it and asked if there was any milk around. A refrigerated case in the corner had pints. He bought six. Being 18 definitely had its perks.

Oops, how does one carry a huge decorated cake and six pints of milk on a motorcycle? That was another problem. The prefrontal lobe of the brain controlling judgment did not fully mature until 21 yrs old. So judgment was definitely the last thing to develop. Most teenagers make poor choices because it's physical. They really are that stupid about things an adult takes for granted. So, here he was, a fifty-three year old mind in a developing body. And he was standing at his motorcycle looking like an idiot with a huge cake he had no way to get home intact because he was an idiot. He forgot his backpack and the storage on the bike would not accommodate a cake this large along with all that milk. Jack sighed. I will be an idiot for another couple of years. Nothing for it. He sat down at the curb and ate it with his hands. Uh oh. I forgot napkins. Hey, isn't that what pants legs are for at 18? Prefrontal lobes were over rated.

People walking into the bakery were staring at the young man sitting on the ground by his bike, obviously engrossed in enjoying cake and milk. I wonder what this does for their sales today? What a marketing ploy! Have a nice clean cut young man sit in front of your store and eat your product looking like he couldn't enjoy it more if he tried. It was brilliant advertisement. Oh stop it. You are thinking like an old man. What 18 year old ever thought about marketing strategy while eating cake? Actually, considering the mess I just made, I could have crushed the cake into the storage compartment and eaten it anyway. It would not look worse than it does now. Wow, I really am a teenager. That made sense to me. Jack grinned a sloppy frosting covered open mouthed smile. Life sure was good at 18.

That was another thing different this time. I am not angry all the time. How often did I think life was good at 18 the first time around? Jack thought and thought and couldn't picture too many moments. It seemed most of the memories were of stress, feelings of rejection when I couldn't get a girl, anger at almost anything, and the need for rebellion. Heck, I have nothing I need to rebel against this time. Well, maybe being stuck in an 18 year old body, but it grows on you.

Hey I can joke more now too. Geez, I was a grim old coot. I had to hold it in and not show my feelings. Why? Oh, right, leaders have to be composed for the troops. Mustn't let anyone see the doubts and the fears. But why not the laughter? Gaaah, Ba'al really did a job on me. I just hunkered down after that. What a waste! Chugging the fourth pint of milk, Jack looked up to see a movie theatre across the street. It was playing a comedy. That's the ticket, I'll laugh my head off. He wiped his hands on his pant legs and licked his fingers crossing the street. He forgot the half eaten box of cake on the ground. So for the next two hours, Jack let it all hang out as they used to say in the 1960's.

Exiting the theatre, Jack saw he had left the cake on the ground and it was a smushed from having been run over a few times. Oops. I wonder if any of it is still good. Now that was a stupid teenage thought. Clean it up and go somewhere. Nuts, forget it. A teenager would leave it a mess. And that is exactly what he did, after checking the sides for another finger full of icing.

Riding down the boulevard, Jack realized something important. He needed to pee. Should have done that at the theatre. He looked around and saw nothing. Hey, there's nice bush over there. No one will see. The next thing he knew he was taking a leak on a bush behind a building. Wonder if I could hit the side of the building from here? And then it hit him, he was peeing in public. And it felt really good. You would think after running around undeveloped planets all over the galaxy with all those trees and no bathrooms I would insist on a bathroom. But I guess not. Must be conditioning. There was a certain freedom in undeveloped prefrontal lobes.

Jack got back on the motorcycle and was cut off by a fancy new Jaguar. Like any young man, he fancied cars. But Jack's taste ran to old mustangs or corvettes, probably because he couldn't have one the first time around. A corvette, pre-1969 would be great. Thinking about the finances of it, Jack knew it would eat a hole in his pocket to fix and maintain it.

Hmm, maybe this time I will get rich! I can be anything. I understand finances. I know Air Force officers don't make big bucks. I am good looking. Hmm, maybe I could be a movie star. Maybe even get my own TV series. That's a concept. Naw the hours are a grind and you get no life when you are working, if you are working. Hey, I know, I could go to work for a big defense contractor. I know all about the military. They would die to have me. Lots of retired colonels and generals get great offers from those companies. I could pull some strings with the Air Force. They could get me in Dutch with the good ole boys that run things. Those folks have enough clearance to know who I really am. I could save my money being really tight for a few years, then retire somewhere by a pond. Retire? I am 18 years old for crying out loud. At 18, no one thinks about retirement. They should, but they don't.

Jack revved up the motorcycle and took off.

At 18, I will live forever.

**DISCLAIMER: "Stargate SG-1" and its characters are the property of MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp., Showtime/Viacom and USA Networks, Inc. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations and story are the property of the author(s), and may not be republished or archived elsewhere without the author's permission.**


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